


A Lupercalia Blessing

by JamesJenkins9



Category: Spartacus: Blood and Sand
Genre: Anal Sex, Ancient Rome, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bondage, Dominance, Facials, Fingerfucking, Fondling, Gladiators, Hero Worship, Historical Fantasy, Homoeroticism, Italy, Lust, M/M, Master/Slave, Obsession, One Shot, Ownership, Pagan Festivals, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy, Revenge Sex, Roman Vice, Seduction, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Slavery, Short One Shot, Smut, Spanking, patrician
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesJenkins9/pseuds/JamesJenkins9
Summary: It is the eve of the Lupercalia festival and as all of Capua is consumed in great celebration, young Numerius seeks to fulfill his most intimate and desperate desire to be satisfied by the new champion, Spartacus. Takes place following S1E10: "Party Favors."
Relationships: Numerius/Spartacus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	A Lupercalia Blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Came up with the idea toady and was in the mood to write a new fic based on the series. All characters are property of Steven S. DeKnight. Falco is on OC of mine. I do not condone or promote the actions taking place in this fic. If you have read my previous historical based stories, you know I strive to be as true to the period and culture as much as possible. Hope you enjoy the story, do leave comments letting me know what you think. They motivate me to write more. Thank you!

Numerius fingers nervously adjust the string of carnelian beads wrapped around his slim neck. The 15-year-old smoothed the white linen, and shrugged away the full material of the toga he had chosen to wear this day, straightening the glass tumbler on the tray, as he anxiously awaits **his** arrival to the villa. He is going for proud, his natural curves tight and constrained beneath the toga. After the night of his _Toga Virillis,_ the most honorable moment of his life than the start, he is no longer a child, yet still not quite a man. He knows when the Thracian arrives at the house of Calavius, he will be sure to have the wondrous _god_ hungry for him. Spartacus always was a central focus on his mind. The audacious look the gladiator gives him flashes through Numerius memory, quickening his heart, dampening his _subligaria_. On rare visits to Batiatus _Ludus_ Spartacus was his martial _teacher_ , all while sparking aflame the depths of the boy's desire, awakening him sensuality in a way he had never imagined possible.  
  
In his life Numerius has accumulated things, a handful of valuable possessions, some adult responsibilities, a scattering of vague academic achievements, a tidbit of senatorial wisdom, he supposed he is a well raised Roman. But the door that has been opened before him, the one that he tentatively stands on the threshold to, has him consumed beyond sense. It is Spartacus that stands on the other side, beckoning him. Numerius is afraid, scared of the boundaries he has created, that each time he pushes against them, how easily they fall as city walls.  
  
As he stands in the Calavius villa Bath, Numerius second guesses his gift to Spartacus for this years _Lupercalia_. His complete surrender. Beneath the noble essence, Spartacus is greedy, insatiable and seemingly without limits. He tells the boy to be scared of him. At this Numerius is. Terrified yet aroused. The Thracian keeps him unbalanced. Numerius knows better than to be complacent. Spartacus tells him this is just the beginning.  
  
He hears the click in the lock of the front door, and Numerius scurries out of the open hot bath, standing in front of the steam clouded pool, he waits for the Champion of Capua.  
  
His footsteps echo down the long mosaic-decorated hallway, heavy on the well painted tiles, he strides with purpose. Numerius clasps his hands in front of him to quiet the shaking.  
  
As Jupiter appearing to a lover, he is there. The glorious kind of vision, taking Numerius in, his blue eyes roam down the curves of his slender body, he catches the slight flare of the Thracian's nose as he passes the _subligaria_ tied at the youth's waistline. Down the linene towel, over his white feet, before landing on his leather sandals. He has taken some liberty with the most recent purchase, finding a pair The _calceus_ was made of soft leather, completely covered the foot and was fastened in front with thongs. They pointed upward curving toes ( _calcei repandi_ ), and were both laced and strapped into place. Numerius infers from the low growl that reaches he from across the room Spartacus clearly approves. The sound reaches deep inside his core, sparking his desire. He need to be taken by the Bringer of Rain.  
  
"Welcome to the house of Calavius, Champion." His voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Greetings to you young _Dominus_. You look particularly well this evening." The Thracian being sure to keep his tongue and conduct in check.  
  
"I prepared and dressed for _you_."  
  
"So I see." With those words Numerius begins to tumble. The now familiar fall into submission.  
  
He approaches Spartacus, tentatively, like a rabbit to a wolf. The gladiator remains still as the youth loosens his iron-bronze collar. Unable to resist the need to feel that toned skin under his fingertips, Numerius tugs the leather of his collar, and as Spartacus drops his lips down to meet his, Numerius strokes his cheek. Resolved to the boy's intent Spartacus kisses him deeply, showing the truth of his own hungry need, his stubble rough against Numerius soft skin, his body hard against the patrician as he presses against Adonis equal.  
  
Breathless Numerius draws back, sliding the strap from under Spartacus collar.  
  
"I will keep that on my person," he speaks suddenly as he grasps and pockets the collar etched with: **_Hold me, lest I flee, and return me to my master Quintus on the estate of Batiatus_**.  
  
Numerius shivers at him imagining of what Spartacus would not object to-or would do to him. Silently turning to the two female Gallic slaves standing aside to the right, the senator's son nodded for them to clear the room and await his call. Once they left their presence, Numerius saw fit to resume the longed for _session_.  
  
He steps around to Spartacus back. She pulls the cloak up over his arms, hanging it on a nearby ebony chair. Returning to stand before him, Numerius removes his arm bands, and loosens his tunic, revealing his broad chest. He takes Spartacus hand and leads him to his lounger, a gentle push sees Capua's new Champion seated below him. Those sea-colored eyes sparkle with bemusement tinged defiance as they follow him to the pool's edge, the scent of Pompeiian grapes rises from the freshly poured wine he hands to the gladiator.  
  
Spartacus eyes Numerius over his drink, with unsure hands he pulls at the sides of his _subligaria_. His gaze never wavers, following the boy's every move, Numerius reaches behind casting away the cover of his linen shield. It drops to the floor leaving him exposed in dark brown dampened underwear complimented by his newly bought sandals.  
  
Dropping to his knees at his Champion's feet, Numerius unlaces his leather sandals, removing them one at at time, and casting his clothes aside. The brunette Roman youth takes one of Spartacus bare feet into his hands and begins to massage his soles, focusing on the pressure points Numerius had learned from a massage expert he had hired in order to learn how to please such a handsome _beast_.  
  
Despite any remnant of resistance Spartacus body stirs, his blue eyes Numerius sees are hard with desire, peering out from the olive-oiled shining face that has haunted the boy's dreams.  
  
"Stand up." The gladiator commands seeming to know the boy's intentions without them being spoken.  
  
Numerius rises to his feet, Spartacus stands and he stalks around the youth, circling him, examining him. He takes the strap from his _subligaria_ and binds Numerius wrists together behind his back. The boy's heart begins to pound. He has been craving this moment.  
  
Spartacus returns with a small iron dagger taken from a nearby table, he slides the cold metal from collarbone, down Numerius chest, between his nipples, the boy shudders at the cold touch, at the fear of his _control_. The Thracian takes the blade and with one slash, cuts his underwear open on both sides. Two more quick slash and the garment lays in a pile around his feet. Spartacus runs the cold iron further south, over Numerius belly, tracing the excited reddened swollen member between his legs. With those two quick cuts and the ruined _subligaria_ fell to join their matching _comrades_. Spartacus leaves the gold medallion round the boy's neck be to confirm his nakedness.  
  
"Kneel at my feet." Numerius does as he is told. His fierce blue eyed locked with the Roman's as the gladiator's deep voice reverberates through him,  
  
"You belong to me.  
  
You are mine.  
  
You are my property.  
  
You are my companion.  
  
You are my beloved.  
  
You are my slave."  
  
At each statement Numerius utters an involuntary groan. A whimper. Naked, save the sandals, his skin flashes with goosebumps under Spartacus gaze.  
  
He hears the sound of the gladiator's belt unbuckling, the sliding off and clatter upon the floor.  
  
"Present that beautiful ass to me. My _Dominu_ s."  
  
Numerius drops his face to the floor, and waits, anxious for the first strike. Spartacus circles him, once, twice, and again, drawing out his suffering, deferring him pleasure.  
  
"My beautiful companion. It's time to suffer for you _Dominus_."  
  
Numerius flinches as the Thracian's calloused palm smoothed his bottom.  
  
"You are shaking young one. Tell me you truly desire this."  
  
"Yes My Lord, I want this beyond all." Numerius murmurs, unsure, afraid of the upcoming pain, yet desperate to be owned. To be wholly present only in this moment.  
  
"You do not sound very resolved boy," Spartacus says as he runs a finger across Numerius round cheeks, to the center of his lower back. The skilled warrior's light touch excites him, fires into Numerius core. He traces down between the Roman's anal cheeks, igniting the boy's pleasure as he passes over the youth puckered hole. He continues lower, finding the youth's wet folds.  
  
"Your soaking ass and hard cock tells another story lecherous young wolf." Unusual for Spartacus he chuckled as he slides a finger deep into Numerius center. Numerius moans and pushes back into the strong hand, his desperate need for Spartacus touch instinctual.  
  
Spartacus pulls back his hand and strikes Numerius bottom hard with the leather belt.  
  
The boy wails in shocked pain.  
  
"Your orgasms belong to me. You will wait for me to judge whether you release seed or not. My wanting _whore_."  
  
He dips his finger back inside, Numerius whimpers, turning his head, his right cheek now pressed to the cold wooden floor, he holds still. Spartacus finger working his ass, he delivers the second blow. The pain provoking the pleasure in deepening opposition.  
  
The young Roman's moans increase, he clenches his bound fists, fighting the urge to writhe.  
  
"Beg for it young one."  
  
"Please Lord, hit me, stroke me. Let me come please Lord."  
  
"Good boy. But not yet _cock slave_."  
  
He strikes Numerius with the hard leather of the belt, over and over, a second finger joins the first. The senator's son is moaning loudly now, his hips grinding, to escape the mounting pleasure dam threatening to burst, or to force Spartacus fingers deeper, even Numerius does not know.  
  
"I love to turn your clever, quick mind into wild uproar." The gladiator chuckles again, his smooth voice falls like warm honey over Numerius.  
  
"Please Lord, let me release sweet tribute." Numerius leg is shaking, his foot trembles, threatening to slide out of the phallic bronze pendant, clinging only to his toes.  
  
Then he is gone. Numerius sighs in frustration, in desperation. His ass throbbing in emptiness.  
  
"Great Venus, I think I shall have to use your other two wet holes tonight, and ignore that hungry call of my ass."  
  
"Spartacus, please." He lets out a sob.  
  
The Thracian wraps an arm around his thin waist, and scoops the youth up, his strong form more than a match for Numerius limp body. With deft hands he undoes the knot of the medallion, and lies Numerius on his back before the private bath.  
  
"Such a beautiful youth." He says, his eyes raking over Numerius curves, tracing his smooth perfumed skin.  
  
Numerius catches his eyes, a hard look confirms Spartacus position of dominance, as the gladiator sweeps his hands above the youth's body, binding them once again with the leather necklace. He pulls the wrists together, winding the silk, firmly in place.  
  
Beside him, Spartacus fingers comb into the gasping boy's short dark sweaty locks. He grabs a handful of hair, Numerius sense of Roman _pride_ destroyed in an instant, Spartacus slides him up the table, he cries out in shock at the rough jerk, Spartacus strength a suitable match for the lustful boy, Numerius kicks his legs fighting for purchase. His dream hero rounds the left of the floor, one hand holding the boy's head, the other reaching low for the object of Numerius _needs_. Slender neck bent, the boy views the world upside down, as his honor join the clothes on the floor, he moans as Spartacus hard cock springs free.  
  
He slaps the cock against Numerius cheek.  
  
"Open for me darling cock slave. Let Your Lord **master** your throat."  
  
With blind fervent obedience, led by a desperate need to give all of himself over to the gladiator who _owns_ his dreams so completely Numerius opens his mouth, wide like his friend Falco had taught him, his tongue forward. Spartacus glides the thick shaft along the boy's wet tongue, instinctively Numerius wraps his length. The Thracian pushes deeper, until he meets the resistance of the back of his young fan's throat. Numerius gags lightly, and he draws back.  
  
"Good Boy." The Champion murmurs.  
  
Spartacus runs his free hand down Numerius collarbone as his cock pushes into the boy's mouth once again. He reaches Numerius left nipple before his cock hits the back of the Roman's throat once more, and he pinches hard on the taunt bud. Numerius elicits a moan, opening his throat allowing his Lord entrance. The bull-heaving gladiator grunts, one hand pulling and squeezing the nipple, the other still bunched in the youth's raven black hair.  
  
Numerius tumbles deeper into submission, a warmth encompasses him, as he lets go of all that is real. Spartacus pulls him closer, his nose pushes into the gladiator's underside, closing off his last airway. Numerius bound hands raise over his head, pawing at Spartacus chest, his legs writhe on the floor. Spartacus pulls back allowing the boy a breath, his ass gushing at the sensation, he moans and gasps around Spartacus cock. Tears stream two blue eyes, Numerius chin covered in drool, loose strands of his hair fall around the reddened face. Ruined, he raises his head, now wanting the Champion deeper, needing to be joined as entirely as physically possible.  
  
It is then Spartacus pulls back, knowing he has claimed Numerius mouth, knowing another piece of his resistance has been shattered.  
  
The young Roman lies spent, attempting recovery. Trying to slow his heart beat, struggling to stop his breathless panting. He listens to Spartacus heavy footsteps padding across the hard mosaic floor, and yelps as he pulls Numerius roughly by the ankles, down upon it. He enters the boy's ass without warning, rocking into him, slamming into Numerius wet, dripping hole. His arms hang above his head, his cock proud, supine he wraps his legs around Spartacus waist, in a futile effort to pull the _god_ to him. The youth's ass clenches around him, the abandoned orgasm quickly resurfacing.  
  
"Should I let you let pure essence flow young one?"  
  
"Please my Lord. I need to."  
  
"Wait for your Lord's permission."  
  
Numerius toes curl in his sandals, his fists open and close as Spartacus fucks him deeper, harder, faster. Claiming him more with each thrust. Spartacus cock grinds against his sweet precious spot, each pass maddening.  
  
"My Lord." Numerius voice sounds garbled to his ears, Spartacus chuckles darkly.  
  
"Cupid's cock, I shall use this body all night. I want you desperate, clawing at the eyes. Not yet young one."  
  
Spartacus reaches behind him and unhooks Numerius ankles from his waist.  
  
"No!" The boy yelps in painful need as he withdraws.  
  
The Thracian looks down at him with an seemingly mocking-adoring gaze. Numerius is crying, his tears cut shiny lines down his cheeks.  
  
"My beautiful young _Dominus_. Now roll over."  
  
Slowly, not at all in control of his weakened body Numerius rolled onto his belly.  
  
Bent over the floor, through teary eyes, he gazes across the bath, to the steam-filled space of the pool, pristine along the surface, she whimpers from the pain, he moans from the pleasure of the pain.  
  
As Spartacus takes Numerius from behind, his last vestige of nobility claimed, he pushes back, forcing more of the gladiator inside of him, trying to find a foothold, the boy's dildo heels sliding on the floor. Spartacus drops down to wrap Numerius body in his. His breath hot on the back of the youth's neck. His sweat mixes with the boy's, slippery against his tied forearms. The wooden furniture begins to shake as he stands once again, hands gripping Numerius hips tightly in place, Spartacus pounds into him, Numerius sounds grow louder, and more urgent, and then his Lord is gone.  
  
He moans in complaint and desperation. Spartacus pushes Numerius thighs together, and hooks his knees outside the boy's legs and drives himself inside once again, deeper.  
  
"Oh," Numerius breathes, "truly a favor from the Gods."  
  
Softer this time, Spartacus rocks into him, teasing.  
  
He tries to speak but fear clamps Numerius jaw. Piece by piece Spartacus breaks him. Numerius shatters like crystal against the solid mass that is Capua's Champion. His cock grows harder inside of the youth, and he slides his hand below Numerius shuddering form, the heel of Spartacus hand presses against his cock, his long fingers enter Numerius ass.  
  
The lust-maddened youth cries out, a scream of pleasure and pain mixed and contrasting, taking Numerius higher, while sinking him lower, he is gone into the all encompassing light and dark that is Spartacus.  
  
His scream is unending as Numerius ass clamps around the base of Spartacus hard, thick, wonderful cock. The pleasure pole Numerius universe now revolves around. As the Thracian explodes inside of him, the gladiator's lion-like roar frees the last of Numerius senses and he comes in rolling waves, the boy is _drowning_ but finally pleased.  
  
Eyes closed, body pushed to the hard wooden surface, Spartacus member still buried deep within Numerius, he tugs hard at the necklace, the gold pendant clatters onto the floor, absently the boy hears them roll onto the floor. The gladiator slides a leather band around the Roman's neck. The leather tightens as he fixes the collar to Numerius neck.  
  
" _ **You are mine**_."


End file.
